


First Impressions

by Oshun



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshun/pseuds/Oshun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhapsody asked for Mahtan as a father or husband. “My challenge to you is to concentrate on his daughter.” I did not do exactly that. Although I did not concentrate on his daughter, Mahtan does. To write you something about a father’s concern for his daughter seemed appropriate right now (written when her daughter was an infant).</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impressions

Heavy black hair fell down over his shoulders obscuring his face. The boy walked with a distracted air as though lost in thought. In Mahtan’s office the day before, he had used formal courtesy to cover arrogance. Although he came highly recommended from Aulë, Mahtan wondered what he might know of the unglamorous day-to-day work a smith must endure to create the space for the pursuit of beauty and innovation. The son of a king was unlikely to be constrained by such tasks, but Mahtan would insist that he master them.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, the lad greatly overshot the doorway to the forge before stopping and looking about. Puzzlement suffused his face.

At that moment, Mahtan’s daughter raised her head from her work and watched. Newly seeing him through her eyes, he noted the uncanny perfection of his strong jaw line, rosy full lips, pretty as those of any maid, and his dark-winged brows accenting pale eyes.

The handsome youth lifted his head, tossing his hair onto his back. After patting his pockets, he withdrew a leather thong. He raised strongly muscled arms, and, with graceful fingers, braided and secured his hair.

“Atar, is that Prince Fëanáro?” Nerdanel asked.


End file.
